Onto the New Year
by YellowRosesAndHearts
Summary: Takes place about 2 months after Fault. Olivia and Elliot aren't partnered and Elliot is with MCS now, and they haven't talked since. One night in a bar on New Years Eve. This is the one I really tried on.


_**EO fluff. I love them together, so why not write it? And I worked harder on this fic than I have on any one so far. (Guess that's why it's so much longer). This takes place on New years Eve, probably about ten weeks after 'fault'. Please review, because again, I tried really hard.**_

New years definitely wasn't on my list of favorite holidays. Then again, I didn't really have a list a favorite Holidays, because I tended to dislike them all. They always reminded me just how much I was lacking in the family department. Lets see—a mother who drank away my _entire _childhood, and on her worse days couldn't tell me from the other little girls down the street, and a father who had raped said mother sealing my existence to begin with. So, basically, my genes sucked. And if genetics were a surefire way to tell how a person would actually be in real life, there's no question I'd be dead now, so I guess I'm lucky they don't.

Holidays have always symbolized for me lonely nights in my apartment, or, on nights like tonight when I'm feeling adventurous, going out to bars until the owner decides to close. I don't have any aunts, uncles, or cousins—even fewer close friends—and still fewer boyfriends that make the grade past one night stands. So usually it's just me and the shadows of people that I've seen hurt on the job or people that I've hurt on my own. And obviously, the idea of sitting them around a circular table to get wasted and tell stories is completely insane.

'_I'm a fourteen year old rape victim whose abusive father Olivia failed to imprison, because there was no evidence.'_

'_Really, now? I was put in jail because of Olivia's failed investigation, and to make things even better, she shot me while I was holding an unloaded gun.'_

'_I can top all of you. I was raped back in 1968, and that's why Olivia exists!'_

I laughed at the irony of this—not because it was funny, but because of how incredibly _un_funny it was. I took another deep sip of my Southern Comfort and spared a look to the Budweiser clock on the wall—thirty two minutes until the New Year, and I wasn't even close to being excited yet. For some reason, that made me laugh, too. It was then that I decided that it would be a good idea to lay off the liquor.

"Hey, what's funny?" A voice next to me asked, "I want to laugh too."

I knew that voice without turning; nearly two months without hearing it had not come close to erasing it from my mind. Instead, his voice—that is, Elliot Stabler's voice-- taunted me during my waking dreams as I lay awake in the early hours of the morning trying to rest.

We had been partners in crime solving for eight years up to about seven weeks ago. In theory, business partners were all we were supposed to be, but we went leaps and bounds past professional courtesy and became each others everything. And not in a physically romantic way, either—no matter how much he or I may have wanted it. We learned to be there for each other because in the subsequent years of our partnership, after his divorce and after my mom died, we were all each other had.

After our partnership, erm, ended, he had been transferred to the Major Case Squad. The building wasn't too far from the SVU headquarters, but we didn't talk after that. All I knew was that he was excelling quite well, and had a pretty new partner who found him extremely attractive and had no problem showing it. She was only twenty five, and the Elliot I knew had never been one to rob the cradle, but I was learning you never knew with people. After all, no one would have staked money on Elliot and I turning out the way we did.

"Hello, Elliot," was all I could think to say.

"Hi Liv—er, Olivia." I registered the renewed using of my entire first name with a cringe. Elliot had been the only one who could call me 'Liv' and still have balls the next day. Now that he had stopped, I was back to not being familiar enough with any one to have a nickname at all.

"How's the new partner?" He asked.

I flinched. I had been hoping to forestall this issue indefinitely, because I didn't like to think of how it really ended.

_I was standing at the coffee machine behind my desk, when I noticed Elliot storming up to my right. Wearing his angry interrogative face, of course. Eight years of partnership, and he had yet to realize it didn't work on me. _

"_Benson—Outside." I usually would not have let him order me like that, but the startle of him using the last name put me severely off my game. It sounded strange in his voice, I had always been Liv, or at the very most, Olivia to him. The last name was only used when he was angry about something. And I had not doubt what it was he was angry about._

_The door had not closed behind him before he hissed at me, "How could you do that without telling me?"_

_I could have answered one of two ways; as an intelligent and mature adult, or as an oblivious teenager. I chose the latter._

"_What are you talking about?"_

"_You know perfectly well what I'm talking about. I'm talking about you going to Cragen and asking for a new partner without even picking up the phone to tell me about it."_

_For some reason, that made me really angry. And me angry at normal people is bad enough. Me angry at Elliot is a different situation entirely._

"_Don't you start condescending to me! This was your idea, remember? Yours."_

_Elliot seemed to be losing steam in the argument, but I was just getting started._

"_And how could you say that, anyway!" I screamed, "How could you even suggest it, and put me in that position?"_

_Somewhere, I knew I was being unfair, but I had started, and I couldn't stop myself._

"_I didn't throw away eight years, Stabler. You wanna know whose fault this is? Look in the mirror."_

_I was both shocked and appalled at the tears gathering in my eyes, and as fast as I tried to turn away, he'd already seen them. His palm came out tentatively to stroke my face, and his entire hand was easily half the size of it. I let myself enjoy the thumb caressing my cheek for just a moment, then I gathered my courage, and turned my head curtly away._

"_Don't." I said._

"_Olivia…"_

_I couldn't take it—I tuned and walked away, allowing the tears to fall more freely when I was out of his sight. I could hear him yelling after me, "Liv! Liv!" _

_But I didn't look back._

"I'm not still mad about that, you know." He told me.

I laughed and responded sarcastically, "What do you have to be mad about?"

"Me? You cornered me and yelled at me and--_"_

"Relax, Stabler, it was a joke."

"Try making your jokes funny."

I turned away in annoyance, wondering what the hell had happened to us. I felt a tap on my shoulder and turned to see Elliot again, giving me that boyish grin that reached his gorgeous eyes. He leaned in close to me, so close that the tips of our noses touched, and our breath mingled. "Olivia Benson can dish it, but she can't take it?", he whispered jauntily.

I drew a sharp breath as I realized our proximity—not because I didn't like it, but because I liked it all too much.

One has to wonder how a man like Elliot kisses. When we were partnered together, I'd see him on some days speaking gently to a rape victim, and decide he kissed tenderly, only going forward if you gave him the go ahead, playing with your hair. Other days, I would see him insisting on getting a warrant for a case, and decide that he was persistant, a man who would kiss you the way he wanted to whether the situation called for it or not. And still other days, I would see him interrogating the hell out of a perp, and decide he kissed violently, tongue plunged as deep as space constraints would allow, hands roaming and pressing you closer. The kind of guy whose touch made you burn.

It honestly didn't matter to me which style he had—none would make me not want to try it, or dull the elation that I was sure came with kissing Elliot Stabler.

Oh, god, was I really thinking that right in front of him? Shit. I could feel my face burning, but I don't blush. I'm Olivia Benson, goddamnit! Men don't make me nervous.

I turned my face away from his, and he smiled to himself. "Same Liv," I heard him whisper.

"How goes MCS?" I asked. I didn't want him to know how much it had hurt me when he'd left the SVU, but I knew that the pain I felt was betrayed by the crack in my voice.

He shrugged. "As good as can be expected, I guess. Me and my partner are totally out of sync… she's a young one."

I'd heard the rumors, obviously. Who ever thinks that New York cops are above the elation that comes with gossip are extremely, completely, mistaken.

"From what I hear, she's more than just a young partner." I raised my eyebrows suggestively, even though I felt something die a little inside of me.

"No," he replied simply, "She's not."

We were quiet for a while longer, giving me still more time to stare into the depths of my drinking glass and wonder where we'd gone wrong. When it completely came down to it, it started when we began to care about each other too much. When I couldn't imagine my life without him. When we became willing to sacrifice everything else just to help each other out. And it generally freaked me out, because I have not known any relationships to go down because the two parties care about each other _too _much.

"Liv?" The tap on my shoulder and the sweet voice called me out of my latest day dream. And at the use of my nickname, I couldn't help but feel the hope spring up in me.

"Yeah, El?"

"Whatever you want to say, just say it."

It was an opening, and I ran with it. "Okay. I'm not still mad at you either. And I wish you were—still around."

His voice came out as tender as I remember it. "Liv, I am still here. We can still hang out. I know we don't work together any more, but it doesn't stop me from missing the hell out of you."

There were so many things to say. Like, erm, _I missed you so much! I've been completely miserable without you around! I care about you SO much._

"Ditto," I replied.

We smiled at each other, and I felt that humor about us again. The way we used to be, when we went out to Lunches and Dinners and Drinks and work parties. And I figured maybe there was hope for us after all.

He started laughing. "So there are rumors about me and my new partner?"

"What?"

"I mean, it's just so ridiculous. People are actually saying that?"

"They said that about us, too, genius."

"Yeah, well… she's kind of not my type."

"What is your type?"

He clapped my eyes with his, and wouldn't let them go. I heard myself gulp so audibly that I was scared he would hear it. It was almost like a standoff, see who would look away first. And I was determined it would not be me.

"My type?" He said, eyes still burning into mine, "Well let's see. Medium height, chin length hair, brown eyes. A really good cop, and strong as hell."

What the? What the? What the? I found myself unable to form a coherent thought. What the hell had he said? Oh my god, Oh my god, Oh my god… _Wow, I sound like a teenager. No more Southern Comfort for you, Olivia._

"What about you, then, Liv? You type cast your dates, too?

So he wanted to play this game, did he? That was fine. I was damn good at it.

"Oh, you know… short blonde guy, green eyes… works in a Library, doesn't like to get his hands dirty."

His eyes darted almost instantly away from mine. _Score one for Olivia!_

"Ahh, you know I'm playing. I go more for the Irish Catholic, rough around the edges, NYPD kind of guy."

We bubbled over in laughter together, and I Knew a peace that I had not known for over two months. Suddenly, Elliot's face contorted with seriousness.

"I did miss you, Liv."

I couldn't resist a slight blush. "Same here."

Around us, the other customers in the bar were standing—I didn't know why at first. One of the bartenders turned up the big screen TV as loud as it would go, and I caught sight of Time square, not far from here, overlooked by the fluorescent silver ball.

"Five!" Elliot yelled to me, face stretched out in and ear to ear smile.

"Four!" I called back.

"Three!" He said quietly.

"Two!" I whispered intimately.

"One!" he mouthed to me calmly, latching his fingers on the belt loops of my jeans.

Before I could yell "Happy New Year!" I felt something pressing on my lips. It took me a second to realize that it was Elliot kissing me. Dumb, right? I spend the better part of eight years waiting for something like this and when it comes, I am completely thrown off guard.

Still, I managed, to recover quickly enough to kiss back, and realize that Elliot had all three kissing styles—His hand toyed in my short hair, while he insistently pressed his tongue in and out of my mouth, and pulled me so close to him with the other hand that it almost hurt me. Just the right kind of hurt, though.

When we eventually broke apart, a grin lit up his entire face. "I'll call you tomorrow, Liv. We should do something."

I felt myself nodding, and watched his back until he left the bar, feeling just as giddy, girlie and juvenile as could be. And I decided that New Years, bar none, had completely earned its way onto my non existent list of favorite Holidays.

_**There it ends. Review and I will love you for all eternity.**_


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